


(Without Tenderness) We're All in Hell

by rosemaldrge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1900s, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Character Death, Intense pining, Irish Sea, M/M, Mentions of Injuries, Pining, Wales, Welsh Remus, lighthouse au, mermaid sirius, slowburn, tragic, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28453209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemaldrge/pseuds/rosemaldrge
Summary: The one cardinal rule of a light-house keeper would be to always respect the sea. What if the sea gain sentience and hold a certain animosity against you? What then?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. A Kingdom by the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you and all my love to my lovely friends (!!!) who have helped me beta this fic; [Ben](https://pan-and-ready-to-stan.tumblr.com/), and especially [Dan](https://dannikathewomanika.tumblr.com/) who's brilliant and has kindly lend all the wonderful happy occurrences that you read in this fic because obviously I can't.

The sky was dark and grey that night. It danced restlessly as it spilled gallons of rainwater into the Irish Sea. Thunder and lightning were their own self driven chariots, wild and encumbered. Winds were billowing ghastly and angrily. This was the night of _‘The storm’_.

Folks, especially those who resided over in the quaint little village in Wales where _The storm_ happened remembered it for ages and ages after. It became a penance of theirs to have it remembered. They mustn't forget, for they know the price they shall pay would be high. 

And such, the tales of _The storm_ were retold over and over in the safety and comfort of their homes to their young ones, generations after and beyond. Any nights they were trapped within the four walls of their own homes, at the mercy of nature.

“This was _The storm_. You know the one. The big, horrid one,” they’d say in front of a roaring fireplace in the living room. ‘This was _The storm_ that deserves the name,’ they’d say in the warmth of their safety. Lest the little’uns forget.

The young ones would listen and agree. They nodded their yes, and hummed in assent for they had all heard of the story before. _The big one. The storm._ It echoed in their minds, etched there for a time until it was their turn to pass the tale to their little ones. And such was the way it was.

The soft warm rugs and solid stone walls listened in to the tales told and whispered their agreement to the proclamations of _The storm_ . They too remembered it. _The storm_ . The humans had not gotten into the habit of naming storms after people yet. That came after this. That came after _The storm._

At the lighthouse, a good mile away from the village, and far away from the warmth of a home and family, Remus Lupin sighed at _The storm_. 

He was standing in front of the lone window in the lighthouse living quarters. The storm window was rattling in its frame. It would hold, he knew. He wasn’t even worried about himself or the lighthouse surviving the storm _per se_. He was safe there. 

The lighthouse was built out of stones liberated from the nearby chain of forts and ramparts named after Emperor Hadrian of the Roman empire. The wall fell despite the best effort of his descendant, Emperor Lucius Septimius Severus during his military campaigns in northern Britannia in the early 3rd century. 

It had stood there on that little jut of land that bravely forayed into the sea for almost a hundred years and it would still be there for a hundred more years, Remus suspected. 

Matter of fact, he couldn’t care less about the survival of either subject matter. 

No, Remus was worrying about something more that balances on a precarious stake. You see, it was on a night very much like this one that Remus had seen his first and last ship that had run aground. It was a long long time ago when Remus was just a wee bairn and when his da had been the keeper of the lighthouse instead of him. But Remus remembered it clearly. He remembered it as though it was yesterday. He wouldn’t wish that fate to his darkest demons. 

Now, one might wonder what a fine young man with adversity of tragedy was doing manning a lighthouse far, far into the sea of the unknown on his own. It was the dastardly promise of nothingness, actually. Remus Lupin would like it very much if he could have nothing to do with the fiendish callousness of company. He thought he rather had quite enough of that thank you very much. 

Of course, like the lack of company, Remus had quite enjoyed the solitude and having no one shoving rather rude questions like the _‘why?’_ and the _‘what’_ to his face. Yes, very much like the one we readers had been asking. 

At the lighthouse, Remus waited for another tick at the window, and he turned on his heels to go to bed. There was no point of waiting this storm out. Unlike the lighthouse which could stand its ground against a category 5 storm on the Saffir-Simpson scale and win, Remus was just a man. He should try and get some sleep anyway. He needed to be up every few hours throughout the night to check on the light. This was the way it was. 

Remus Lupin did not fret.

The next morning, exactly half an hour before dawn, Remus woke up like clockwork. There was no preamble despite only having gone to bed (again) just two hours ago. He blinked his eyes open, once and then twice, and he sat up. Stretched this way and that way, and pulled on his boots before he shuffled to the kitchen for his morning tea. 

He was a well oiled machine and at this point he was rather convinced that if he dropped dead due to one slippery incident or another, which opportunity was aplenty as one of his many occupational hazards, his muscle memory alone could run the lighthouse no problem.

All bundled up with scarves and wooly jackets and waterproof coats, Remus climbed the stairs, and went all the way up to the highest floor to check on the light. It was still on. It had never once failed him. He had once thought that the light itself was a half accurate self portrait of himself; dependable and unfailing to a fault. He trimmed the wick and restarted the light anyway.

Cup of Yorkshire in hand, Remus waited the regulatory 30 minutes to ensure that the light did not die down. He went through his checklist clipboard, mostly out of habit because he had well memorised it by this point, and wrote his report in his lightkeeper notebook. 

The Fresnel lens and its many prisms were fine despite the storm as he expected. He cleaned that first. He checked on the lamp after, refilling the supply of fuel as he went along. The weights were next. These were the tower shaft driving gears that caused the lens to revolve. Remus hand cranked them up to the top and a new descent started. 

It was still too dark to see anything beyond the light show. So he waited, and waited for the first light to break through the clouds and the mists. A golden ray on the darkest blue, danced all the way to the horizon. This had always been his favourite part. The sky and the sea were at their most beautiful, the morning after the storm. 

But they did not come.

***

Remus’ teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, but it wasn’t because of the cold bitter winter or the freezing wind, no. It was the sight of unfolded horror that had been drawn behind Remus’ eyelids. This would become a permanent fixture of his waking nightmare for years after, but he didn't know that yet.

See, light keepers were not trained in search and rescue. Certainly, they do save lives by spotting ships that were in distress, relaying unheard radio calls for help, providing first aid and sanctuary, and preparing for evacuations. But it was not part of their job to act as those important people, no. He was simply the first responders of the sea. 

Remus figured that even if it was not on a light keeper duty, he was doing this out of moral obligation. He was there, supposedly, as merely the safety net for the seafarers, to keep a watchful eye on the sea and them. He was the sole guardian against the wild and beguiling Irish sea. 

There was carnage to say the least. 

Broken and mangled boxes and crates smashed against the unforgiving rocks. Planks of wood that used to be a ship. Canvases that were once proud sails. There was unmentionable horror too. 

Men, or what used to be, now shells of limp and bloodless faces that turned with the tide. The sand was then made up with varying amounts of material weathered from inland rocks, shells, bits of mangled human body. 

There might be more as far as the eyes could see, but the mists were horrid and she was loyal to her mistress, the sea. They rolled down from heaven, in a thick muggy fold of uncertainties, spread all over the landscape, blanketing everything in eerie silence. There was no wind, no sun and no gusts of fresh ocean air. 

Remus was standing amidst it all. An unwilling, starling paragon instead of a spectator.

It brought Remus back to that morning many, many years ago when he was very young. That one singular night of horror that bespoke his reason for living like a hermit. _‘Not again,’_ Remus thought desperately. _‘Not this again, please,’_ Remus pleaded. It had been for naught, of course. It was an exercise in futility, this incessant wishing and wanting. But then again, when had the wishes of men won against the will of the sea? 

One might wonder then yes? What he was doing as a lighthouse keeper if he had been so terribly traumatised by the undoing of horror? Remus had no answers himself. One might say that he was fuelled by noble intentions but those people sure didn’t know of our Remus Lupin. 

Our Remus fell to his knees amidst the wreckage and covered his face with his hands. He wanted to sob and scream at the injustice of it all. But he didn’t know who he should start yelling at - the sea for wreaking havoc or us mortals daring to cross that line god has drawn in the sand and forayed into the sea? 

In between this mourning for the loss of self disparity, Remus heard a sob. He sniffled into the palm of his hands and wondered if he had mistakenly heard himself sob and was being paranoid about it. Stranger things had happened by the sea in the mist after all.

One hand steadying him on the ground, Remus half-sat up and tried to listen better. There it was again! The sob! He wasn’t imagining things. Probably! He had to find out if the sea and the mist weren’t playing trick to his mind. 

He strained his ear and sat very still. When the next sob came, Remus was ready and he was then able to pinpoint the direction. It was somewhere nearby to the jagged rocks on the far right of the beach, away from the lighthouse. Remus stood up and picked his way carefully through the carnage.

It wouldn’t do for him to slip and fall and bash his head against the jagged rock or a sharp stray plank no matter how accidental it might be. He hadn’t called in for the authorities yet, and who knows when the villagers would find his body? They didn’t exactly make it a habit to come to this part of the beach especially in the winter.

The sobs were becoming louder and louder and Remus inched his way blindly to it. 

_‘Please, no.’_

Remus stopped in his tracks. He was more certain now that he had heard a voice. Someone had spoken. A survivor. His movement became hurried then. There might be hope after all. Maybe this wasn’t like that night. 

_'Please, no. Not again,’_ the voice said again. It was as clear as a whistle now. It was heartbreaking to hear the harrowing hurt in such close quarters. Remus’ steps turned shaky and his hands began to tremble, but he didn’t stop despite how eerie it was that the voice had projected Remus’ own thought out in the open. 

A slight gust of wind blew and with it, a clear path formed in front of Remus. He could see now, there was a body facing the other direction and half hanging onto a large jagged rock that was shaped like a sail. He was facing away, so Remus couldn’t tell for certain that he was the one who had spoken. 

Remus hurried forward regardless. He then stopped when he was quite close that he could touch the person with his hands if he so much as reached forward. He didn't. 

The sight in front of him was bizarre to say the least. For starters, the person who had spoken wasn’t wearing any clothes. His back was a stretch of skin that was a beautiful golden brown instead of pasty white like Remus’ and the rest of the local villagers. It glinted as the sea spray adorned it despite the lack of direct sunlight. 

Also, instead of a pair of legs, this person in front of him had … _fishtails,_ sparkling scales of grey and green all the way down to a huge fin in the place where his feet should be. It was _stunning_. 

Despite the situation, Remus couldn’t stop admiring how breathtaking it was. 

_‘Mother, please,’_ the person spoke again. It snapped Remus out of his reverie, or rather, his ogling stare at the person. Now that he had a closer look, he realised that the person was currently bleeding rather heavily from his side. There was a huge gash that was dripping something tinged green that reminded Remus of pine trees in the spring. Remus hadn’t even seen any pine trees his whole life. He had lived here, by the sea, since he was born. 

Where would he get the idea? 

_‘Pine trees. Honestly.’_ Remus shook his head of that ridiculous thought, and took another look at the wound and the liquid flowing steadily from the man’s body. Blood perhaps? Remus frowned at it. The wound was huge, it seemed to start from this man’s left rib all the way down to his hip where there were … _fins?_

Remus willed himself to step forward. Regardless of who this person was, or what he could be, he needs help. 

“Hullo? Mate?” Remus asked tentatively, careful not to spook him. 

The next thing Remus knew was that there were tips of a sharp edge of something pressed against the nape of his neck, with just enough pressure to break through his skin. A couple of droplets of blood started to trickle down Remus’ skin. As it were, the person had spun around so fast on his side to wield a black gleaming trident against Remus’ neck. Remus barely had the time to blink. 

Their eyes met. Remus couldn’t help to notice as they were standing at such close quarters - that the man had eyes as grey as the stormy night sky he had witnessed countless times before from his lighthouse window. The man had both hands on his trident, one (green) bloodied one that Remus assumed had been clutching his side. Remus watched as his bare arm muscles flexed beautifully as he gripped the trident tight, as if it was his life line. Remus was still watching as the man snarled at him. 

Unfortunately the only thought crossing Remus’ mind was how beautiful the man was. 

“Fuck,” Remus exhaled.

That seemed to be the wrong response however, as the man pressed the trident harder against Remus’ throat. Remus gulped, and tried not to make any sudden movements. A steady trickle of blood was flowing down his bundle of coat now. Remus wanted to clear his throat, but he thought that even the slightest bit of motion would be unhelpful in his situation, so he did the best he could. He looked calmly back at the man, trying to look non threatening.

The man growled at Remus. Right. Remus should probably say something if he didn't want to be the first man on this side of Wales to be spearfished to death. 

“Look, I can help,” Remus said.

The man looked unimpressed. He bared his teeth at Remus in response. They were sharp and brilliant white. Great, maybe he won’t be the first man in Wales to be speared? Trident-ed? to death. He would be fish food instead. That would be brilliant. He knew a lot of his countrymen had suffered the same fate, they were out at sea though. Fishing. They also were dead first. Drowned. Maybe his end would be just as he had always expected, pathetically common. 

Anyway, Remus took it as a demand to explain himself better. To present himself as harmless or maybe voice out the fact that he was in fact, not fish food? Remus had much preferred the first option. So, that was what he went with.

“I’m Remus. The lighthouse keeper. It’s right over there. You’re bleeding. I can help. It’s kind of my job anyway.” 

The man lowered his trident a smidge but he didn’t stop looking at Remus menacingly. He scowled and made a jerky movement. Remus took it as a sign to continue talking if he valued his life. Well, if Remus was being honest, the answer to _that_ question kind of changed from time to time. However, let it never be said that Remus Lupin shrinked from his duty. It was kind of a point of pride with him. So, he continued talking.

“I have a first aid kit to bandage your wound. Food and tea too if you want. There’s just me there. I mean no harm. Promise.”

“Sirius.” The man finally spoke. Remus was right. His was the voice Remus had heard earlier. But he no longer sounded sad. There was a harsh urgency to it now. But it wasn’t enough to cover the fact that his voice was the loveliest sound Remus had ever heard, up this close. It's almost melodical, pure, and dulcet. It was like listening to the voice of the love you lost when they greeted you at heaven’s gate. It took Remus by surprise, and he gaped at the man stupidly. 

“‘M name.” The man spoke again. Sirius apparently. 

_‘A beautiful name for a beautiful person. How fitting,’_ Remus thought as he became lost in Sirius’ eyes. They really were enchanting. The grey of Sirius’ iris seemed to beckon him forward. They seemed to shine with something delicate and hopeful and familiar, something that Remus thought in surprise, he had seen somewhere before. Remus felt like he could stand on the beach forever just staring at them. Lighthouse and life be damned. 

“Help.” Sirius said. He had moved one of his hands from the trident that was still pointing at Remus’ throat. The bloodied hand was back to clutching the bleeding wound on his side. Sirius squeezed shut his eyes and leaned back against the jagged rock weakly. His breath became shallower and more laboured now. Remus watched as Sirius’ chest rose and fell slowly. There was something so enthralling about it. 

With great difficulty, Remus finally blinked and looked away. Right. Help. He did say. He had to do something. He stepped forward quickly and with shaky hands, Remus slowly pushed the arm holding the trident away from his face. Sirius let him. 

Glad that Sirius had finally decided against jabbing the trident through his throat, Remus squatted down next to Sirius. He took off one of his many coats and wrapped it around Sirius’ shoulder clumsily. Sirius grunted in response but he didn’t even move anymore. Remus was getting worried. When he touched Sirius’ arm earlier, it had felt like dipping his hand into a freezing bucket of ice. It was freezing-yer-bollocks-off cold. _Too cold_. He had wanted to check for a pulse, out of instinct mostly, but he didn’t know if Sirius had one. Also, he didn’t think Sirius would appreciate him being that intrusive.

Instead, Remus kneeled down and moved close enough so he could put one of his arms to support Sirius’ back and his other arm underneath Sirius’ jointed bit of fishtail. When he held Sirius in his arms, Remus was surprised when Sirius immediately curled up against him. Where his skin met Sirius’, it felt a little like being plunged into icy seawater in the middle of winter, which suffice to say, Remus had experienced once or twice before. 

Sirius’ soft breath against Remus’ chest accompanied him all the way home. 

***

It took almost a week for Sirius to be up on his feet, well, up and about. In a sense. 

When Remus brought him home, he put Sirius down in his own bed and got to work. As it often was when he was carrying out his duty, Remus’ mind became an empty concerto. He transformed into a one man orchestra of instruments that sole duty was working together to put the pieces of Sirius back together again. 

It was rather awkward at first because Remus had never patched up a fish-man (?) a siren (?) before. Sirius had only glowered at him and bared his very sharp teeth at him when he asked. Still, he had tried his best. It was part of his lightkeeper training after all - emergency first aid. 

As it turned out, the process wasn’t as difficult as Remus as expected. After Remus had cleaned out all the (green) blood, the wound did not seem too bad. It was deep still, more than a quarter of an inch so a suture was needed. Sirius was lucky, Remus supposed that the bleeding gash didn’t hit any major arteries or veins. Admittedly, it was a bit odd considering the amount of blood. But, it wasn’t like Remus knew much about the anatomy of a foreign sea creature (?) now did he? 

Before Remus proceeded with the suturing, he offered Sirius what was left of his measly alcohol supply - a bottle of gin, since he didn’t have any proper painkillers. It wasn’t like lighthouse keepers were properly paid. To his surprise, Sirius refused the bottle of gin and instead gestured at Remus to just get on with it. 

He was a bit perplexed, but he took it all in his stride and used the gin to sterilise the equipment - needle, scissor, and a bit of threads and went on to disinfect the wound, making sure that there was no foreign matter still stuck inside the wound. He did it quickly with his practiced hand, not wanting to prolong Sirius’ suffering. 

When he was done, he looked up to see that Sirius had been quietly watching him all along with his dark grey eyes. Remus was a bit taken aback, and nearly toppled over backward from the shock. He really wasn’t used to people watching him work, or having people in close proximity, or just people in general. He had been alone for longer than he cared to remember. Sirius made no movement to acknowledge this particularly sad display and continued to watch him. 

After he had done all he could, Remus’ mind went back to work. So he simply left the room. He did what he was supposed to do in the first place, carrying out the lighthouse keeper duty. A report was made and a party of disruptors clothed in official uniforms flooded the lighthouse that very afternoon. 

The investigation lasted three weeks. People, authorities, and men in raincoats and wellies came and went to ask Remus this and that; asking Remus to clarify logs and reports. Inspecting this light prism and that crank gear. This and that. The answers were always the same. 

See, the men were particularly hellbent to giving Remus a rather difficult time since Remus was the primary, and _only_ lighthouse keeper. The story was that his da, who was supposed to be the other lighthouse keeper, was recovering from illness at home and was accepted with an assent of grunts. After all, did they really want to make a trip back to the village on foot in this weather? It was pouring buckets after all, since the village was not accessible otherwise? 

Not to mention, his application for the secondary lighthouse keeper to replace his da never went through despite having done everything by the book. He did everything right of course. There was nothing to worry about. The paperworks spoke for him. The men were just arseholes carrying out their duty. 

Throughout all these commotions, Remus was very careful to not get distracted by anything (ha!) and carried out his duty like he had always done. Everything was the same, except for the slightest bit of difference - he was nursing a merman (he had finally decided on the term, at least in his mind) back to health in his bedroom.

Instead of making Remus feel clammy and nervous, the secret had surprisingly brought a spring to his step. Sirius’ presence had changed something in his life. He no longer woke up in the morning out of obligation, he was now actually looking forward to living his days. 

His routine which had been practised for years had changed. As soon as he woke up in the morning - the actual morning, and not the past midnight early morning to check on the light, Remus went to the kitchen to make two cups of tea. Instead of drinking it as he walked upstairs to immediately check on the light, he made breakfast. At least, for Sirius. It took a couple of tries but apparently merman’s diet included oat _bara lawr_ , biscuits and vegetables. It decidedly did not include fish (the sheer horror of cannibalism Remus supposed). 

Since he could barely afford even leeks and cabbages, the _cawl_ Remus made had sometimes a mix of seaweed he gathered. This particular dish was Sirius’ least favourite. He would scowl at the bowl of soup, as if him looking at it alone would set it on fire. Remus had hoped that that wouldn’t happen. Fires were a bit difficult to explain in reports. 

Even after the bastards had left them well alone, Sirius still hadn't spoken another word to Remus. Remus had heard him sung though, in the ensuite bathroom of his small living area. Water in the bathtub splish-splashed this way in the background as Remus was about to come in bringing him his breakfast or other, hovering outside his own bedroom like an intruder. Remus could hear him clearly through the walls even. Sirius’ singing voice was as clear as the Sunday’s church bell and was as entrancing. It reverberated through the walls and it held Remus spellbound.

Remus caught himself completely lost in listening to it countless times. More time than he could count, Remus found himself burning the oat bread, and forgetting that he should be up tending to the light ages ago because he was too lost in Sirius’ heart wrenchingly beautiful rendition of songs of sorrow and loss. 

Funnily enough, Remus had never seen Sirius in _flagrante delicto_ of moving about. He was either already in the bathroom singing or in the bed sleeping. When Remus came back to pick up the breakfast tray the food was often nibbled at, and Sirius would already be fast asleep again. Remus didn’t know how he had managed the distance between the bed to the bath if he didn’t have legs to walk with and it seemed very rude to ask or assume, so Remus didn’t. 

At night when Remus went to change Sirius’ bandage before Remus’ own (so called) bedtime, he had to shake him awake and Sirius would wake up with a start every time, the trident in his hand pointed at Remus’ throat in a flash even before his eyes had opened. Remus had suspected that Sirius had been sleeping with the blasted thing under the duvet but he hadn’t really know for certain.

It took awhile at first, but Sirius had now learnt to quickly lower the trident when he realised it was just Remus. Sometimes, he’d grunt something that sounded like an apology. Other times, he would just exhale a relieved sigh a little too loudly, his grey eyes glinting brightly in the din of Remus’ bedroom. He would then lay back on the bed, and let Remus tend to his wound. Like the very first time Remus worked on the wound, Sirius’ eyes would be on him the entire time he worked. It never did get less unnerving. 

Not that it would matter for much longer though. Sirius’ had healed fast. Much faster than a human would be that is. Of course Remus hadn’t expected that Sirius would attain this flimsy human quality. Still, it was rather disconcerting. 

In the short span of two weeks, the injury had progressed from a bleeding gaping wound on Sirius’s side to a bed of shiny, deep green granulation tissue that put Remus’ worries to rest. It had put Remus’ mind at ease, sure but, he was still concerned. There could be internal bleeding and injuries that they were not aware of. But when he raised the issue to Sirius, he had only barked out a maddening laugh as he shook his head repeatedly as a clear message of ‘no’.

Sirius had been right of course. Who could they call to check on him to be certain? Was there even a mermen doctor?


	2. Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plotten thickens with an extra sprinkle of mist, fires, and oh, uh, a mob of all things.

There was another storm the following week. It wasn’t as big as the universe shattering storm that had sent Sirius to Remus. It wasn’t as bad as the tragedy that turned Remus to part of a pastiche-hermit. Still, a fishing boat from the village capsized because it had taken them unaware; the storm coming and going like a staged scene in a play. 

As it were, evident by the tragedy, all the wisdom and folklore knowledge passed down to generations of fishermen to protect them from the sea and sky had failed them. Well, it was that or the law of nature had suddenly turned on them after a millennia or so. Remus had not decided which made his skin crawl more. He often waited out storms by sleeping soundly in his bed, but since Sirius was there, Remus had made a makeshift cot for himself to sleep in the kitchen. 

Sleep did not come for him the night of the storm.

The sky was not merciful enough to give them warning before the storm. There had been no high cirrus clouds in the air before the storm struck. There were no halos or solar and lunar coronas in the sky. They couldn’t even see the edges of the storm approaching in the horizon. In fact, the weather was sunny. There was not a single cloud in the sky. One could’ve been fooled to think that this was summer, or a wonderful country that had summer all year long. 

It was as if the storm had materialised out thin air with the snap of a finger. Even the porpoise and sea birds were caught in it. 

The morning after, the beach right next to Remus’ lighthouse was littered with carcasses of gulls and puffins. Even albatross and shearwaters that could survive the sea for months at a time without needing time on land were slaughtered by the storm. Amongst them, Remus found the bodies of three fishermen from the village, Mr Morgan and his two sons.

Everybody went to the sea to mourn and process their grief by enacting their thousands of years of Celtics funeral traditions. When the funeral pyre was sky high, there were loud murmurs of dissent heard instead of sobs. It intensified and worsened when Mrs Morgan herself had thrown herself into the fire. Her son and husband were all that she had left.

The village people were understandably clouded with distress and anguish. They were also quite angry. It was a funny thing with processing grief Remus supposed, for often, humans would find it was easier to channel these amalgam of emotions by focusing it on someone to blame.

They had of course blamed Remus. He was their gatekeeper against the sea and sky after all. 

That night, after the funeral, Remus watched from the top of the lighthouse as a crowd gathered in front of it, demanding his resignation, or his soul sold to the sea to appease her in exchange for all of the others’ safety. Remus could hear both versions of demands clearly. The mutinous march for his removal started as a needle point all the way from down the village to a burning Guy Fawkes sized bonfire on the front steps of the lighthouse. 

He was lucky, he supposed, that the lighthouse had no windows on the first floors from the ground, because the mob threw a lot of unsavoury things at the tower. Remus could hardly see in the dark of the night and the wind was threatening another visit from the hurricane, still, the sound of things whacking Remus’ home was quite clear. 

Despite all that commotion, the booming mad chants for Remus’ blood was louder. Remus wanted to say that he was brave and he didn’t run the 91 steps down to his living quarters to get Sirius and maybe to grab his hand and flee. This is after he had carried out the cursory check on the light before bed, of course. That was still his priority.

As he was rounding up the corner to his room, Remus was surprised to hear loud arguing voices.  _ ‘Had one of the villagers managed to climb in through his living area’s window? That poor villager though.’ _ Remus shuddered at the thought of anyone of them (no matter their obvious ill intent) facing Sirius’ trident. They would’ve been slaughtered before they could blink. 

Of course that would happen. Why would Sirius waste his time arguing with an intruder brandishing fire or other unsavoury pointy objects at him? Suppose that doesn’t explain the loud arguing voices though. Now that Remus had a proper listen, he was certain that one of them was Sirius, and the other one was not a person from the mob downstairs, for he spoke in an accent very much like Sirius. 

Remus sighed and stayed rooted at where he stood. He didn’t quite know how to approach this situation. 

You see, Remus was thinking that he had had quite enough number of surprises for a man to live through in a short span of time. Although Remus supposed it would make sense in a way that all the surprises he was meant to experience in his life up until this point had been squeezed into the period after the storm. His life had been rather dull now up until the arrival of  _ the storm  _ now that he thought about it. 

Yea, let’s go with that.

Before Remus could decide on what to do, his bedroom door swung open rather violently. Behind it, stood another merman - that was right, he was  _ standing _ .

Remus blinked stupidly at the sight of the mermen in his room.  _ ‘Honestly,’ _ he thought.  _ ‘Don’t you think you’re pushing the number of surprises, at this point, god?’ _

“Thanks for taking this bint in, mate.” The standing merman said as he grinned a mouthful of sharp white teeth at Remus, as he pointed a thumb at Sirius who was still lying down on Remus’ bed. Sirius grumbled his usual murderous grunt and did a gesture that Remus assumed must be very rude from where he came from behind the other merman’s back. 

“My apologies, princling,” the merman said mockingly as he chuckled and curtseyed at Sirius.

Ah, so the endearing grumpiness was a thing Sirius does very often then. Remus carefully filed that fact away. 

“No worries?” Remus managed to answer in a voice a bit too shaky after a tick too late. 

The standing merman grinned even wider as he extended a hand at Remus. Remus looked at the hand. He noted that unlike Sirius’ this merman’s scales were deep red in colour, interspersed with flecks of gold. It was rather breathtaking.  _ ‘Still not as beautiful as Sirius though,’  _ Remus’ mind supplied rather unhelpfully. Remus’ mind did a lot of unproductive thinking that day, it seemed. 

Carefully, Remus shook the merman’s hand. It felt a bit like touching a seal, at the bottom of the Arctic. Remus tried to visibly not shudder and failed. The merman’s grin grew impossibly wider now, he was chuckling soundlessly, and Remus could see the eye of his molars glinting in the dark. Remus quickly let his hand go, his eyes looking anywhere but the merman’s legs/fishtail situation. He was not very fond to be at the sodding end of another surprise. He was also genuinely concerned that he would not be able to stop staring at the merman’s legs/fishtail if he gave in to the temptation. That would be presumably rude universally, so he didn’t. 

“I’m James by the way. I assume that you are Remus?” The merman continued unabashedly as if they were gentlemen at a tea party instead of at a lighthouse living quarters that might or might not burst into flames in a matter of minutes. Also, not to mention, the fact that mermen were mythical creatures. 

Remus nodded slowly. 

“Sorry about His Royal Highness’ lack of manners. I know that he can be very difficult.” James said, and in the background, more grumbling could be heard from Sirius’ direction.

_ “ _ _ Dim ffrind pryderon,”  _ Remus managed to mumble, not very aware that he had slipped back to Welsh.

James was still still grinning at him. Suddenly, he made a show of smacking his forehead with the palm of his hand and shaking his head. Remus blinked at him.

“Right. Where’s my manners? Here I am going on about Sirius’. Come on in, mate. Of course, you needn't the welcome. This is your home anyway, so ...” James said as he waved Remus in, welcoming Remus to his own damn home. What could Remus do but walk in?

As he was crossing the threshold of his own room, being welcomed by a merman he had never met before, Remus heard Sirius grumbled something that suspiciously sounded like ‘sodding idiot.’ Remus’ eyes snapped in the direction of James’ face as he responded as quick as a snapping porpoise’ mouth, a glint in his caramel coloured eyes. 

“You forgot to mention your Remus is rather dashing, brother mine. No wonder you have such a difficult time finding your way home.” 

Instead of grunting a response, Sirius threw his glinting black trident at where James’ head was. 

James chuckled and easily plucked the trident out of its trajectory in one fluid movement of his arm. Remus might’ve missed the whole thing if he had blinked even once. 

Remus struggled to breath for a second at this violent display of affection and made a resolve that he refused to be surprised at anything else if he was planning on having Sirius around in his life, maybe. He simply would choose not to be surprised. Mind over matter, as it were.

So Remus inhaled a lungful of Irish sea air that had a tiniest bit of chemical composition that was made of fire and miscellaneous burning materials. 

“Now, now Prince Sirius. Won’t you behave in front of your Remus?” James said in a slightly bemused voice, eyes still on Remus. 

Surprisingly, Sirius did not grumble this time. Instead, he was staring determinedly outside through the window, looking a bit forlorn like he had been told that his every last bit of his all time favourite snack had ceased to exist in a tragic incident. He had his arms crossed on his chest, huffing every now and then. Remus couldn’t help but to admire the very defined muscles of Sirius’ arms. 

Decidedly, Remus stepped inside. James closed the door immediately with the end of Sirius’ trident. 

Sirius grumbled another insult at James, eyes still trained at the window and Remus realised that he was still staring at Sirius. Remus didn’t look away though - from Sirius? From the window? He didn’t know. He didn’t think he could either way. 

In a way, Remus could understand one of his dilemmas. He loved that window. It was his personal porthole. His own bull’s eye window on the orlop’s deck. The only shining beacon of light in the otherwise sunless and gloomy world. He could draw every rubble and crack in the stone wall with his eyes closed, with his mind adrift in a sea of strange and with his soul floating away to heaven. 

He’d spend hours in front of that window, just watching the ocean swaying underneath the gloomy Welsh sky, waves unfurling with the wind and the creatures of his kingdom being alive, more than he could ever dream. 

Often there’d be a pod of whales just outside of his window. They’d swim merrily by, tails fluking above water, blowing water playfully out of their blowholes, and their snouts breaching the waves oh so beautifully. They would sing their song in Remus’ backyard and the clicks were parables of daydreams and desire. Remus often entertained the thought that they were there paying him a visit. 

At the thought of his lovely visitors, Remus realised then he loved the sight of Sirius  _ more _ . 

“Right. What should we do about this whole mob situation then?” James suddenly spoke, in a very casual manner, as if he was chatting about the weather. His voice rang loud and clear in Remus’ ear though because he had somehow managed to stand by Remus’ side. Remus nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard him right next to him. He hadn’t even seen the bastard move. 

Remus, who was still looking at Sirius, saw that Sirius had rolled his eyes at James. 

With great difficulty, Remus stopped looking at Sirius and turned to James. What could he say, James was right. What should they do about the whole mob situation downstairs? There was no other way out. It wasn’t like there was a backdoor in a lighthouse. Remus had lived here as long as he had memories. He knew every inch to this place. 

There was only one way in and out of here - through the one wooden front door which Remus knew was under heavy lock and key.

He knew this fact like he knew that they were gone and done for. After all, what were the chances two mermen and a lumpy Welsh lighthouse keeper have against a whole sodding mob? 

Never mind the fact that he had overdone the door barricade after naughty boys from the village had made it their favourite past time to try and break into and vandalise the lighthouse. So much so that the end result of Remus’s home improvement project (read: the door) had very much looked like something that came straight out of an Ancient Romans manual of siegecraft and fortification. 

As if on cue, a monstrous crack was heard from below. It was followed by a mighty crash of something heavy and ancient on the lighthouse’ stone floor.  _ The door _ . Their first and only line of defence had fallen. They had seconds now before the door to Remus’s living quarters was smashed to bits too. Loud, boisterous noises unfurled in the frigid cold air they breathed. Remus tried to not choke on his fear, or his beating heart in his throat. He could hear them, the mob, the villagers, people he used to know climbing the 91 steps up to them. Typical isn’t it. Right at the precipice of something akin to hope.

Remus blinked at James who looked strangely calm, like he didn’t have a clusterfuck of people chanting for his blood a few feets away. Remus wanted to call bullshit to the whole thing and curl up under his duvet to sleep and wake up from this nightmare maybe.

_ ‘Dear god, something this horrid must be a nightmare right?’  _ Remus thought desperately, like a one man show in a tragedy of denial.

As Remus lamented what could possibly be the last few seconds of his tragically short life, all 25 years of it, the sound of the mob drew closer. Remus could hear every bit of words they were chanting. It was not pretty. It echoed on the cast iron steps, all 91 of them as the men and women stomped up the spiral staircase. He could hear the sound of their ugly hearts echoing on the dressed limestone wall, their ill intents reverberating in the rubble and mortar wall core.

He wanted to curl up in a tight ball and pray for the gods he had not believed in in years to smite him with a bolt of lightning. 

Just as Remus was foraying into the outskirts of demented daydreams, the sound of his patented nightmare stormed closer, inching for his throat; barely skimming at the very essence of him. Remus could feel his knees turned shaky, and his legs were giving away. His breath got shallower and shallower, as he believed that the air he had inhaled would be ripped out of his lungs by unnamed hands. The salty sea breeze that was usually helpful did nothing to calm his nerves. Remus doubled over, shaking hands doing more damage, rather than steadying his knees, and he tried and failed to blink his blurry vision away. 

Right on cue, as if this whole tragedy was a starling production of drama by the goddess of misfortune and mischief, the men and women with collective thirst for Remus’ blood arrived at the door. Remus could hear them shouting, chanting even, for him to give up his life. It was, after all, the noble thing to do. Instead of walking to his death with his head held high, he fell to the floor instead. Like a  _ cachgi _ . A  _ coward _ . He lay on the floor, a crumpled mess as the mob bang on his door. 

Bang! Bang! Bang!

_ ‘Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi!’ his mind supplied as echoes. _

_ “We know you’re in there you bastard. Get out here, cachgi!!” _

Bang! Bang! Bang!

_ Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi!  _

_ “Cer i’r diawl! Let us send you!” _

Bang! Bang! Bang!

_ Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi!  _

_ Come out come out Chachgi! _

Bang! Bang! Bang!

_ Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi! Cachgi!  _

As he lay there on the floor, Remus couldn’t help but wonder how it was that the door managed to hold up for as long as he had now. In his deduction, it wouldn’t last 10 seconds. Quietly, Remus began a countdown in his head.

_ 10 … this cold floor seemed oddly comforting _

_ 9 … all cool and nice on my skin _

_ 8 … maybe I could stay here forever _

_ 7 … what was it they said about your life flashing by you nearing the moment of your death? _

_ 6 … all I could see is the bloody floor _

_ 5 … and the bloody sea _

_ 4 … and Sirius for some reason? _

_ 3 … not that it would matter, any minute now _

_ 2 … surely the door would’ve given in by now _

_ 1 … now? _

Instead, Remus heard James’ barked out a command, which was odd because Remus swore he had heard James call Sirius a prince before. He even curtsied. Weren’t (mer)people supposed to not yell at royals, ever? Maybe that was just an inside joke. He did say they were brothers though? So they were both royals? Do royal courtesy to one another? Also, they look nothing alike!

Remus shook the thought off. His mind sure was hyper focused on odd details tonight. 

“Sirius, mist!” said James. He was shouting at Sirius again. Although, it might only seem like shouting because it sounded very close to Remus’ ear. Perhaps Remus had missed the bit where James kneeled next to his cold (almost) dead body on the floor. Remus chanced a peek to see if there was a steady swirling of mist appearing out of nowhere. Just in case.

Instead, he saw the sight of Sirius, grumbling something throaty and equally sharp at James.

“You’re grim, princeling,” James said in reply, his tone teasing but eyes sharp and void of humor. 

_ ‘There it is again? Is it their last name? ‘Prince’? Does mermen have last names?’ _

Remus however did not have the chance to ponder on the subject further. The shouting grew louder and nearer. Remus had even given up on listening in to their chants and the steady creak of his bedroom door as it threatened to shatter into a thousand useless splinters. There was a different matter of urgency that arose. James was now bodily pulling Remus onto his feet and talking right to his face. So much for curling up on the floor and waiting for his death.

“Right through the window, then.” James said in such close proximity and with such force that it was impossible for Remus to ignore. 

“Are you mental? I’m not jumping into the sea - there’s a storm coming.” Remus managed to choke out. His vocal cord was still feeling a little strangled from his untimely separation from his bedroom floor. 

“It’s just a bit of a swim, Remus.” James said, looking quite bemused. Behind him, still hunched on the bed like a cathedral’s stone gargoyle, Sirius shot them an exasperated look.

“It’s not just a bit of a swim. There is also a 13 meters fall from this window! Are you both mad?” Remus returned loudly, having lost nearly all his composure, which hadn’t happened …  _ ever.  _ Except for the bit where he wanted to curl up in foetal position and wait for his death, of course. 

“You  _ do  _ know how to swim right, Remus?” James asked, a bemused look still playing on his face. Sirius, however, had taken upon his new role as a gargoyle quite literally. He was acting like nothing of concern was happening. Remus was quite certain that he was going into shock.

Remus mumbled something that sounded like assent, and James barked out a guffawing laughter so loud, Remus was quite afraid that he would shatter his spleen, or whatever it was that merman had on their back, holding them up. As a matter of fact, James was doubling over, slapping his knees a few times in mirth, and his face looked like Christmas had come early that year at the seven seas or wherever the hell he came from. Remus had wanted to strangle him. 

“WELL, ALRIGHT, let’s hear all the jokes then. I know what it sounds like. But we never have to go into the sea as lighthouse keepers. That’s the job for the blokes at search and rescue.” Remus said, finally had snapped. He was staring at the floor, addressing a particularly stubborn stain he made the winter before last when he tried making candles to cure his boredom.

His monologue was interrupted by a particularly violent hiccup by James, who hadn't quite finished laughing at Remus and had thus developed hiccups. Quite right, that.

Nobody even dared swim here anyway,” Remus finished lamely. 

“Right.  _ *hic*  _ Would you rather  _ *hic*  _ be kindling  _ *hic*  _ or come with us?” James asked, as he walked up to the window, mouth still a ghost of a laugh. 

Remus looked at him, and then at the window. He loved that window, he thought again. He had such wonderful memories here. The whales would swim by, the sight had never ceased to be a wonder. Recently, there was this vision of Sirius associated with the window too. Sirius had spent hours staring out of it, a (mer)man after Remus’ own heart. Remus must have spent a little too long reminiscing about the window and the whales and the wondrous merman, because Sirius and James had decided that Remus’ silence means consent. 

Remus returned to reality just in time to watch the two mermen exchange a look with each other, and looped their hands around each of Remus’ arms before dragging him right in front of the window. James gave the window a slight nudge with his free right hand, and it broke into hundreds of tiny pieces like it was made of paper-thin mollusk shells. 

While Remus was too busy gaping at his (now broken) favourite window, James and Sirius dragged him up to the window’s ledge and together, they jumped out, straight into the sea. Apparently all the incentive that Remus needed was Sirius’ hand on his skin. Nobody really needed to know that was also Remus’ last coherent thought as he fell to his supposed death. 

All the way down, Remus swore that he tried to screw his eyes shut. But as the sea grew closer and closer to his face, it was clear that it was meant for him to die with his eyes wide open like a fish. Which was dignified for them because they do not have eyelids. Unlike humans. He tried to distract himself by praying to his god, that he didn’t believe on most days, but unsurprisingly, his mind stayed stubbornly empty. 

As they fell to their purported demise, columns of mists rose from the sea and engulfed the lighthouse and the sea, erasing any evidence of their escape. Remus’ mind tugged at this detail, and his brain struggled to make a connection between it to something James had said earlier to Sirius.

At the thought of Sirius, Remus turned his head to look at him, whose face was a mask of consternation. Remus was rather determined that the last thing that he saw of this cruel, cruel world was something beautiful that he could almost love. He was even dangerously wading through the territory of staring creepily at Sirius. But then he heard James’ gleeful whooping. Remus’ head snapped to look at James and he was about to open his mouth and throw his own brand of colourful insults and curses. Or at least to tell him to shut the fuck up, before James rather rudely cut him off right at Remus’s pale, worrying, almost dead face. 

“You’re a  _ nereid, _ wanker,” James yelled as Remus’ face was a couple of inches away from the swirling sea.

“I'm a what?” Remus managed to half say and half choke as he fell flat face first into the aqua blue sea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, there is a third chapter. It just, refuses to be written. I know exactly what's going to happen but, it just wouldn't happen. Send thoughts and prayers for this WIP in the comments or [here](https://rosemaldrge.tumblr.com/ask)

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated and loved x
> 
> I'm also on tumblr [rosemaldrge](https://rosemaldrge.tumblr.com/ask) :)


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